When 15 year old Sam is almost fatally shot, the physical pain is tremendous. But Dean is worried about what happened the night of the shooting to cause Sam's growing depression. Plenty of Limp!Sam and Protective!Dean. Sam is 15, Dean's 19.

I've been wanting to write a limp!Sam for a while now and I finally got around to it. I hope this first chapter meets your standards. The next chapters will be much... limpier? Bloodier? Either way, I'm just getting started. :)

Disclaimer: Sadly, no. :(

Sam grimaced as they hit a bump in the parking garage. "Sorry, Sammy!" Came Dean's over apologetic voice. "Whatever." Sam grumbled. He wasn't mad at Dean. How could he? He had saved his life. He couldn't thank his brother enough, didn't even deserve to ask about getting out of the damn wheelchair.

They were almost to the Impala and Dean stopped the wheelchair. He knew the only reason the fifteen year old had agreed to assistance was the promise of no more nurses or hospital gowns.

He opened the door to the Impala proudly and watched Sam's expression.

"Dean..." Sam said in amazement at the stolen hospital sheets and pillows that adorned the passenger seat. "You didn't have to do this."

"Aw, 'course I did, kiddo." Dean answered. "Let's do this slowly." Sam gripped Dean's arm to pull himself up. He shuffled slowly and painfully towards the open door with his big brother taking all the weight silently. He let out a relieved puff of air as he sat on the makeshift bed. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean gently closed the door and walked over to his side of the car.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked nervously as Dean turned the key. He flinched at the touchy subject. Sam hadn't seen or talked to Dad since that day at the hospital a week ago. Since then he had just sent Dean with whatever Sam needed.

"He's at Bobby's." He answered, snapping out of the memory and seeing Sam's anxious expression. He saw the kid's face light up for the first time in what seemed like forever at the mention of Bobby's and hated to disappoint him.

"Sorry, Sammy. Bobby's not there. He said we could use his place though. He also said 'You break it, you buy it.'"

His lame attempt at making his brother laugh only earned him a polite half smile from Sam before he frowned again, staring out the window at nothing for the rest of the ride.

..ooOOoo..

"Sam, wake up! Dad's here to see you!" Sam slowly opened his eyes to see Dean staring at him expectantly. He started to sit up, but winced in pain. "Hey, man, don't even try it." Instead, Dean pushed a button and the bed whirred as it mechanically moved him into a sitting position.

"D'd you get 'ny sleep?" Sam asked groggily. He studied his brother's face.

John entered the room and sat in the chair Dean had just left. "How ya feelin' buddy?" He asked, putting his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Good, sir."

John nodded and sighed. "What's wrong?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Nothing, it's just... I worry about you, Sammy." He looked down as he spoke. "Your not like your brother. He's a natural hunter. You keep fooling around and getting hurt!"

"I wasn't foo-"

"No!" John was getting angry. "No. You need to pay more attention when you're alone!"

"I didn't kn-"

"You could get Dean killed! Or yourself! Hell, you almost did!"

"I'm so-"

"NO!" Sam jumped as his father slammed his hand down on the bed.

John looked ashamed of himself as he saw the tearful look in Sam's eyes. Standing up abruptly, he pushed passed Dean, who was walking back, coffee in hand.

The older boy looked back at his father stalking away before approaching Sam.

"What happened?" He asked, alerted by Sam's threateningly moist eyes. Dean was startled as his brother pulled him into a hug. Sam cursed himself as a single tear fell.

"Dad." He whispered.

..ooOOoo..

The car jolted to a halt and Sam was startled awake by the sudden feeling of pain he so elusively avoided in unconsciousness.

"Sorry!" Dean said again, though they both knew it wasn't his fault.

"'s okay. We here?" Sam asked groggily.

"Yep," Dean stood up. "Hold up!" He added as Sam attempted to stand up, a whimper ghosting past his lips. Dean quickly joined Sam, who grabbed his shirt to keep from face planting into the ground.

He leaned confidently onto his brother as they slowly walked towards the front door.

Sam yelped as he tripped over the front step, falling to his knees. "Sam! You okay?" The younger brother nodded, but didn't respond, not trusting his voice. Using Dean for support, he got back up and the brothers made the last painstaking steps in and onto the couch.

"I'm gonna get you some of those painkillers the doc prescribed." Dean explained, walking into the kitchen. He returned to an anxiously waiting Sam with pills but no water. Chiding himself for the stupidity, he walked quickly back into the kitchen. The clinking of glasses masked the sound of footsteps on the creaking stairs and Dean was surprised to walk back in on Sam, staring intently at their dad.

Neither took their eyes off the other when Dean entered the room.

"Dad? Can I talk to you?" Dean asked through gritted teeth, handing the water to Sam. John nodded solemnly and began to walk up the rickety stairs, Dean following close behind.

"Dad! We've talked about this!" Dean erupted when they were out of Sam's earshot.

"Don't take that tone with me!" John admonished, though he knew how protective Dean would be over anything related to his younger brother.

"Have you seen him?" Dean hissed. "He's beating himself up about this! He won't start to get better until you guys resolve this!"

"I know, I can tell it's troubling him but I don't want to explode again. But you're right."

Dean nodded in approval, surprised his father agreed so quickly. They had talked about this a lot but his dad had never looked so defeated. But then again, he hadn't seen how torn up Sam was about it. Dean opened his mouth to agree when he heard Sam's shriek of pain.

Hope you liked it! R & R! Constructive criticism always welcome.

P.S. Did anyone else send rubber ducks to J2 in Vancouver?

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